The

Walk-On

The Walk-On:

College Sports used as Effective Treatment for PTSD and Post Combat Reintegration

By: Daniel R. Gaita, MA

April 12th, 2016

Introduction

The drums, the trumpets, the pageantry of the arena. That ever present feeling of
camaraderie and brotherhood that exists within the hardships of two-a-days, early
morning winter workouts, two-week-pre-season summer camps game day and
that stench of grass, mud, sweat, effort and team loyalty which is reserved for the
few that call themselves athletes. For us, it is a bond that never dies and is merely
reinforced upon our return to our respective university reunions, which serve to
connect our generation of players with the next, so that the mystery of college team
sports is never lost but rather bolstered by the myths and legends of those greats
which came before. Often times it is tangled in the misdirected analogies of war,
trenches, and battles. But it is none of those horrors, it is nearly opposite of that. It
is precisely what a warrior craves, needs, requires, and searches for upon his return
home from the battlefields of Americas wars. Thus why I write this today to
encourage all my fellow veterans, especially those tackling PTSD, to pick a college,
pick a team, and WALK-ON to it. I think it may have saved my life.

The Walk On

The Corps

1992-1996 - I had just honorably completed my four-year enlistment obligation in
the United States Marine Corps. My service period would prove to be a life-altering
chapter; one I still call back on and rely upon for inner strength while life, marriage,
business and parenthood kicks me in the head. I was a Forward-Observer attached
to an artillery battery and an Infantry battalion and had benefited from amazing
leadership in Somalia, in Africa, in support of Operation Restore/Continue Hope &
Operation Quick Draw; in the Adriatic Sea to support Operation Deny Flight in
Bosnia & Herzegovina and Later in the Caribbean Sea, in Haiti to support Operation
Support Democracy. No matter where I was, the Corps, its principles, leadership,
and rich history of brotherhood and legendary defining battles almost always
surrounded me. There truly exists (at least in my life experiences) no greater feeling
of belonging and camaraderie than that of military experience in a foreign nation,
especially when some of them want to kill you.

It aint a sport, and we are not athletes. We are trained to kill our designated enemy
in order to accomplish the mission; its that simple. It is an intense, high stress, high
discipline environment that really does not give a shit about your Constitutional
rights or your feelings. We march, train, live, sleep, run, shoot, move and
communicate together. It is unlike any other living experience and has been
reserved for the few and the proud. And then you get out.




EAS

1996 - For most four year Marines, your End of Active Service (EAS) is a time of
celebration, coupled with the clearest feeling of what freedom is and a very strong
desire to get off base and never again return. I actually took off my wrist-watch
when I drove off base, threw it out the window and refused to wear a watch again
for nearly two decades. Why? Because for the previous four years my entire life was
dictated by time. What time I had to be in the next required formation, rendezvous
point, embarkation, debarkation, extraction point, chow, sleep, drive, march, walk
post etc; it was all dictated, and enforced in ways that would result in a lawsuit in
the civilian sector. Imagine your boss in corporate America telling you to dig a hole
or do pushup until you puked

Yeah, I know, you laugh. But it sucked in such a way that harnessed the mechanisms,
which bring forth the power of human resilience. Let there be no argument on this
point: Hardship, not ease, strengthens resiliency.

The Walk On

3
COLLEGE

1997 - Having never been an academic and arguably accepted into UCONN as a
result of my service to the country which resulted in higher SAT scores as a Marine
than a graduating technical high-school senior that smoked pot prior to taking them
in 1992, I was now officially the first member of my entire family to attend college.
My first two semesters were off campus as a freshman and I somehow managed to
end up on UCONNs Deans List. Prior to the Corps, the thought of me on a Deans
List was the topic of family humor and fun party jokes. But there I was with a 3.6
GPA, a full time job, starting my own business and now contemplating what I
wanted to do next as a free man.

Walk On

1998 January, University of Connecticut, Storrs campus, Football Facilities
Building. I pulled in, all 205 lbs, of my five-foot-nine-and-a-half inch frame, parked
and looked for the first person that looked like a football coach or player. They were
easy enough to spot out. Look for the guys that are about six-foot-five and over
250lbs. One by one I asked, where is the head coach?, Anyone know where coach
Holtz is? The first answer came from the UCONN Linebacker coach (Rapone) who
inquisitively asked Who are you and why are you in this building? I replied, my
name is Dan Gaita and I want to play football at UCONN. Oh, you want to play
football at UCONN?, Ok, your gonna need to go over to that building there and go into
the football offices and then you need to talk to the NCAA people. I replied, Thank
you, Sir and walked off. Never, not once, did any player or coach ridicule, or assert
any form of discrimination towards me, regardless of their dwarfing my stature. It
was a very professional first impression.


Moving onto campus

717 McMahon North would be my first college, co-ed dorm experience. When I first
arrived at my dorm room prior to the start of the January 1998 Spring semester I
was met with an open door, a trashed room with cloths piled in the corners and the
sounds of late artist 2Pac being pumped through the stereo in the room, then a
female student walked over and asked who I was and I said the new resident of this
room. She seemed shocked at first because it had been her boyfriend (Aaron
Popes) room for the previous semesters and he did not know he now had a
roommate, let alone a Marine. Then we met, talking loudly over the music, and
never once gesturing to turn it down we cleaned up the room, kept the music loud,
and then he introduced me to a few of the football players living on our floor. Turns
out that we were about to become very good friends.

Ronel Jumpp, Recolon Jumpp and Ron Gamble were the first three to greet me.
Ronel asked, where did you play highschool football? I answered: I didnt. But I did
play pop-warner football as a kid. His answer was priceless and hysterical, OK.

The Walk On

But he was never negative about it or judgmental, in fact none of them were. Then,
surprisingly they accompanied me down the elevator and to my car, and then they
helped me unpack and move in to my room. Naturally, I wanted to thank them so I
offered them dinner at Friendys near campus. Our orders arrived and again to my
surprise, they all said grace prior to eating. Yes, we thanked God together, and then
broke bread together. To say they had made me feel welcomed was an
understatement. I hadnt even had my first workout yet and I already felt a part of
the team. That feeling is what I was missing, I just did not know it yet.


Winter Workouts

UCONNs strength and conditioning coach (Hillman) had a fun process for weeding
out the walk-ons. Either he had them carry each other up and down the stadium
stares until they quit or in our case had us do a leg workout that would leave any
deconditioned person laid up in bed for about 4 weeks or dead. Things like 100 reps
of hex bar squats with 315 lbs. followed by a 40-yard sandbag carry relay and some
walking dumbbell lunges for good measure. He especially voiced his enjoyment at
an opportunity to test the metal of a Marine walk-on. Even though I never let the
NCAA, coaches, players or staff know I had suffered back, knee, hip, head and neck
injuries while a Marine.

I had a few things going for me. First, I was strong, very strong for my size, which
was primarily due to my work ethic and conditioning as a Marine. Secondly, I was
fast. And Thirdly, I just didnt give a shit how big or strong anyone else was. By this
time in my life I had seen and experienced enough to know that any human is only
as big and strong as the heart behind it, and I fully comprehended the outcome of
the equation F=MA.

6am Roll out to the indoor facilities complex adjacent to the rubber track and turf
field. As a Marine, early was easy; but for the college athlete, no so much. So I did my
part to try and motivate these young giants. We barked, howled, and laughed our
asss off as we headed out to the morning workout. From the views across campus
you could see the steam being exhaled from the players as we descended upon the
training complex from each of our respective dorms (McMahon, Hill Top, The Jungle
etc) Usually hours before the other students ever awoke.

Vomit barrels, the large 55 gallon plastic blue ones, located at multiple sites within
the training complex in anticipation of the impact that high intensity workout is
about to have on any athlete foolish enough to have indulged the evening before or
perhaps let himself get a bit out-of-shape since the end of the previous season in
November. Those puke barrels were used by many, but never me.

The workout intensity at this level was easily comparable to any physical challenges
that boot camp may have offered. The fatigue, effort, exhaustion, and yes, even the
sense of accomplishment and camaraderie are replicated. Except now it was for the

The Walk On

game, not war. For the love of the game, not for preparation for war. That is the gift.
That is the component of this unique experience that may have lifted me up and may
further serve to lift up others following their military service.

For some of these young athletes, especially the young freshman that were far from
home, this was the craziest shit they had ever experienced. For me, it was the most
fun I had had since 6 am P.T., and formation runs at Camp Lejeune just two years
prior. I was not a starter, nor had I even put on a set of pads or a helmet yet.
However, I had perspectives and perceptions on training, intensity, life and
resilience to offer these young men. What I had to share with them was what the
Corps had inculcated in me.

Yet that was never my intention nor was I even aware at that time. My goal was to
play football, to ensure that I never looked back upon my life with regret. Did it
hurt? Hell yeah it did. But despite all the injuries I still earned the 1998 UCONN
Team Strongman award alongside my new best friend, Defensive Tackle Ronel
Jumpp and legendary receiver Carl Bond.

By the end of March, 1998 I had accidentally immersed myself in a healthy and
fitness centered environment coupled with faith, brotherhood, support,
camaraderie, team work, and loyalty. It was merely the unintended consequence of
my desire to play college football. Better yet, the direct result of maintaining a
personal sense of purpose and a steady set of goals.


Playbook

Based on my small size (69 1/2 at 205lbs), and service connected injuries I had
selected the position of Safety although I was an MVP pop warner running back,
linebacker and quarterback back in 1982. But this sure as hell was no pop-warner
football. When I was issued my first personal copy of the defensive playbook I
immediately realized that I had discovered a part of football I had never respected
nor learned prior. My pop warner days of running a 35 pop (3 back through the 5
hole) had been replaced with a 200 page defensive playbook and concepts of
football coverages that I simply never got a solid (or any) grasp of.

Even still, UCONN legends like Jordan Younger, Philip Hunt, Anthony Carter and
others took the time to teach me their game while I was subconsciously and
unwittingly teaching them to love the game again.


Spring Ball

To the athletic trainers for tape; ankles, knees braces, jerseys, helmets, pads,
mouthpiece, cleats, and a cubby with my name and number (39) on it. This shit was
getting real. I had now been educated on Cover 2 formations and Nickel Defense

The Walk On

and it was time to suit up, head to the field and put in some real practice reps.
Finally, I was in pads and wearing a helmet. Yes, I wore my cup too.

Despite almost not lining up on the right side of the ball for nickel coverage and
getting ran the fuck over by a fullback at the goal line, I did manage to strip away a
pass and run about ten yards out of bounds before getting encircled and buried by
the entire offense. That was fun. Except for the fact that the whistle had already
blown before I stripped the ball and the offense now had to chase me in pursuit.
Oops.

By the end of spring ball my back, knee, neck and hip injuries relegated me to the
therapy pool, ice pool, ice packs, and longer than natural rest periods. All of which I
tried to hide from the coaches and team.


Summer Workouts

I knew many of them were overtraining but was in no position to speak out. Wait,
this aint the Corps. I can say whatever the hell I want. So I did, and privately
informed the Strength and Conditioning coach that the principles of periodization
were not being followed. That the players at specific positions required more rest
and recovery post outdoor plyometric, conditioning, and strength workouts during
the conditioning phase of the off-season. Lets take a step back: Prior to UCONN and
while in the Corps I also managed to study and earn a diploma in fitness and
nutrition while also earning certifications in personal training and winning the 1994
Mr. Mediterranean body building competition. So I had a bit of knowledge and
personal experience specific to exercise, anatomy, biomechanics, physiology and
yes, periodization.

It also didnt help that during the summer conditioning months, we were partying
our asss off with impunity, which also requires more recover time between intense
workouts and agility drills. Summer was the only time to blow off steam other than
the brief period between the end of the regular season and winter workouts.

Something else happened during the summer. We all got to know each other more
personally. We spent more time together and we worked out hard, very hard. By the
end of summer workouts we were an upgraded version of our prior self,
transformed in visible and invisible ways.

For those that know what it feels like to be in elite physical condition I need not
explain. To those that never experienced such a phenomenon, I can never explain,
other than to say it is an awesome but brief period of life that lifts conscious,
confidence, and dignity to near euphoric levels. I got to experience this once in the
Corps and then allowed to re-live it as an athlete.

The Walk On

I cannot, I repeat, I cannot emphasize how mentally, emotionally, and physical

important it is to maintain your fitness and conditioning. Not just as an athlete
or Marine, but for life. It impacts every facet. So it goes without saying that college
sports goes hand-in-hand with health and fitness.


The Berkshires

Summer 1998 Football Camp. I recall a conversation with Phil Hunt:

All the little kids in your family and your community look up to you like a hero.
The elders in your family admire your accomplishments and would give
anything to be where you are right now. So what I am trying to tell you is these
are the best days of your life you are living, now! The past we can not change,
the future is unknown, but today is a gift, that is why we call it the present.

To my surprise, Phil would later recall this conversation nearly verbatim towards
the end of summer football camp just prior to the start of the 1998 Football
season. I had no idea of the impact that conversation had. I just know I had come to
discover that many of these young men turned college athletes appeared to have
lost the love of the game that they had all become so great at. Elite at.

It was not something I was comfortable observing without speaking on. These gents
had invested the greater portion of their childhoods from the age of 8 through 18 in
mastering a sport, a position, and techniques that placed then ahead of 99% of their
peers. These were men that had been awarded Division I football scholarships at the
University of Connecticut to play a sport they once loved, but were now burned out
from. Not on my watch.

Reflecting back on my time in the corps, the Berkshires were like a field training
operation as a Marine at Ft. Bragg. Nobody wanted to go. Period. But this was not a
Marine Corps field op., this was UCONN Football camp in the Berkshires. Sure, we
had two practices a day and film all day and night. Sure it was 90 degrees, rainy
some days and the bugs sucked ass. But the food was excellent and in high quantity.
We could still laugh, joke, mouth off, and talk shit. Every meal was like a Sunday
supper with 60 brothers.

I just happened to be one of the brothers walking into the cafeteria with bags of ice
wrapped around me between practices. When the coaches asked what the hell I was
wearing Id reply preventative maintenance and then shout out the word
Motivation which had become my trademark both at UCONN and the USMC.

Sure it was exhausting. Especially when I developed a fever, rash and my head
swelled up too big for my helmet to fit my head from taking too many of my pain
and inflammation medications coupled with endless supplies of Tylenol and
additional Advil handed out in salad bowls leading up to and after each practice. I

The Walk On

often wonder how close I was to accidentally killing myself? The worse part, I had
no idea. I figured I had a virus and needed more meds. The team doc was not
interested in the ailments of a walk-on so I would have to wait to be seen and
treated by the VA upon the teams return back to UCONN.

It was at this point that my body and the injuries I had sustained in the service of my
country made it clear to me that playing or attempting to play Division I college
football with back, hip, and knee injuries was ill advised. In fact, it was pretty stupid.
But I am a Marine, and we are not always the most cognitively inclined. Especially at
the age of 25, at college, living in a coed dorm.

Coach

So the dream of playing college football came to an end. I was down but not out. I
was part of a family and we had been training together for over seven months.
Rather than pack up and leave campus I was granted the opportunity to serve the
season as the teams assistant strength and conditioning coach via a UCONN Work-
study program. Having already been awarded the middleweight team strongman
award a couple months back made the decision of the coaching staff that much
easier. So from player to coach I went. Besides the weight room, I was with the team
on the sidelines during the games, and in the classroom.

Reflection
While some might have seen the injuries as keeping me from my dream, I see the
experiences as shifting my perception on life as a whole. The experience offered me
many mentally and physically healthy outlets, assisted in my ability to reestablish a
sense of purpose, provided an arena of camaraderie with great and inspiring people,
while enabling me to broaden my perspectives on life, sports, coaching, goals,
purpose and leadership.

What is often lost following military service can quickly be reinvigorated and
redirected via college sports. For me, the experience was one I will never forget and
looking back today, nearly 20 years later I have no regrets and believe it was
perhaps the single greatest decision of my life following my decision to become a US
Marine. To this day, 20 years later, I continue to maintain a relationship both with
my Marine Corps brothers and my UConn Football family.

Semper Fidelis!

#BleedBlue!